Kill me to Break me
by JayMax
Summary: A tyrant deals out punishment to a slave who will not be broken


_I had a very weird dream about this last night. It takes place when Martin is still in his childhood and he has only been in slavery for a short while so, hope you enjoy it. _

Hot tears coursed down Martins' young face as he stared through the bars of the makeshift slave pen. Windred had been carrying a large rock over to Hillgorse, where he was helping others to put up a wall for Badrangs' fort, and had accidentally stumbled against Hisk for support. Now the cruel weasel had shoved her to the ground and slashed at her fragile body with his whip, as other comrades of his gathered around laughing wickedly. Martin sobbed harder and screamed at them to stop; rattling the bars as he did so, but the weasel and his followers just ignored him. Then the young mouse saw Hisks' short gray dagger fall from his belt and onto the ground behind him.

Martin turned to the sound of a loud squeak at the other side of the compound as a large rat guard opened the gate to give orders to an otter maid Martin knew as Tullgrew. Seizing his chance, the young mouse sprinted forward, pushing his way out of the gate, grabbing the short dagger from the ground, and lodged it deep into Hisks' leg. The unfortunate weasel screamed at the sky in pain as blood flowed like a thick waterfall down his leg and onto the dusty ground. He averted his gaze down at the hilt protruding out of him, and reached dazedly to pull it painfully out of him. The pain caused him to screech out again, and as his anger bubbled over him he harshly swung out his paw and struck Martin hard in the face. The blow caused the young one to crash to the ground, a large cloud of reddish dust flowing up around him. Luckily for the son of Luke, Hisk had fallen backwards and fainted in a heap. Martin rubbed his bruised cheek, and looked upon his grandmother. Crawling over to her, he lightly lifted her head and cradled it in his paws. He called her name and shook her, but she lay still.

"What the hell is going on out there?!" A harsh cry rang out, causing Martin and Hisks' allies to jump slightly. Badrang the Stoat strolled out of his small, makeshift tent, an annoyed look plastered upon his face. He marched up to the scene, the long blue cape strapped around his shoulders swished proudly in the wind, which exposed large, perfectly sculpted arm muscles. Martin watched as the Tyrant drew out Lukes' sword, its' blade shining in the suns' rays.

Badrang eyed Hisks' unconscious form, then the guards cowering beneath his fiery gaze, and then to Martin clutching his grandmother close to him. One of the guards threw a hasty salute, quivering slightly as he stuttered.

W-well c-c-chief, you see t-t-the old mouse w-was j-just givin pore old Hisk a hard t-t-time, so he was j-just teachin her a lesson and then this crazy mouse c-came outa nowhere and sliced his leg open."

Martin quivered as the muscular stoat knelt down before him, drawing the point of the sword painfully against his throat. Martin tried to stare at the ground, but the fur at the nape of his neck rose up as he felt the two evil eyes, like the entrances of hell, trying to will Martin to look up at them.

"You know the penalty is death for opposing one of my horde, mouse! You have no right to injure any of my beasts, you ignorant brat!" he hissed in the young ones' face. This remark caused Martins' anger to rise up into his chest. He pushed down his fear of the evil Tyrant, and forced himself to look up at the warlord. He frowned in disgust as he yelled up into Badrangs' ugly face.

"What makes you think you have the right to injure any of my creatures, you filthy, lowlife, sea scum?!"

Badrang was taken aback by the young ones' bravery. Admiration for his courage was immediately replaced by fury and hatred. Badrang punched his young captive hard in the face, causing Martin to fall backwards. The Tyrant stood over his opponent, holding out a paw as a rat guard passed a cane from nearby.

"In the future, I'd watch my mouth if I were you." Then Badrang struck down hard with the cane. He whipped and slashed at the captive, scratches and blood forming all over Martins' helpless form. Martin kicked out at Badrangs' footpaw, causing the Tyrant to stumble slightly. This only infuriated the stoat who 

threw aside the cane, and grabbed a large stick lying on the ground beside him. He battered at Martin with the stick, throwing in a few punches and kicks to his enemy. Covered in bruises, scrapes, and blood, the young mouse grasped his head, whimpering slightly. He noticed that each time the stoat struck, the pain became more severe. Badrang redoubled his efforts, hatred being the only thing that kept him going. Yet after several more blows, the Tyrant tired and backed off. Chest heaving, he looked up at Martin. The mouse was slowly and painfully getting up. Seeing that his opponent had not suffered much during the fierce beating angered the stoat. He whirled his head around at Skalrag, who was standing nearby with a bunch of weasels.

"All of you teach this impudent brat a lesson! Break him!" he hissed. Skalrag and his followers obeyed instantly, not wanting to face the fury of their warlord if they didn't obey. They rushed toward the figure that was headed for the slave compound. Skalrag was the first to reach the beaten mouse. He stuck out his spear butt, tripping Martin, and the young mouse fell heavily to the ground. His screams echoed across the Marshank Coast, as the six weasels pounced, and continuously beat at his body with large clubs.

Barkjon had just finished helping many of the other slaves to carry Windreds' broken body into the pen, and watched as Hillgorse, laid her gently on some soft straw. Wiping his eyes, the hedgehog inspected her.

"She's dead, Barkjon. Twould be no use to waste our last herbs on her." Barkjon nodded slowly. Suddenly he felt his arm being tugged on.

"Daddy you gotta come here and look at this! Look at what they're doing to him! You've got to help him!" Barkjons' young son, Felldoh exclaimed. He pulled his father to the bars of the pen, where all the other slaves were watching the horrific scene. They watched as Martin was pummeled mercilessly. Hillgorses' face was soaked with tears as he rattled the bars.

"You treacherous scum! For goodness sake, he's just a kid!" Hillgorse howled at Skalrag. The fox slammed his spear against the bars.

"Silence slave! Or you're next."

Felldoh stared wide eyes at Martin. The young mouse screamed in agony, as more scars and large black bruises seemed to appear from beneath his skin. The brave young mouse tried to fight back, hitting out at the weasels with a free paw whenever he could. Unfortunately it wasn't enough. The continued their assault, doubling their efforts each time the captive tried to fight back. Tears coursed down Martins' face, as one weasel lifted him by the shoulders. Martin felt a mighty kick smash into his face, and fell on all fours. Skalrag was just about to kick again, when Badrangs' harsh voice halted them.

"Enough! I think he has learned his lesson. Bring Hisks' body into my tent, and we'll get a slave to heal his leg. What are you waiting for? Step lively!"

Martin was left sitting on his knees, staring up at the sky. He watched as gray clouds started to cover the light blue sky. He coughed and blood poured out of his mouth and nose. His tunic was torn in a dozen places, revealing many bloody scars and black bruises. Almost as black as the sky closing in around him.

"You have to kill me to break me, Badrang. I will never give up. I am Martin, Son of Luke."

Before blackness closed in around him and he slipped into unconsciousness, he felt many willing arms slide around him, and lift him away into the pen.


End file.
